


catsifhed

by howsthismylife



Category: Stackson - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Catfish - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Online Dating, i don't know what to tag, i haven't written anything in months
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2738297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsthismylife/pseuds/howsthismylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lonely, Stiles created a profile on a gay online dating site and found Steve who matched his interests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	catsifhed

**Author's Note:**

> i just thought of this crazy idea.  
> i haven't written anything in months so...  
> this is not beta read so sorry for the errors.  
> i'm in love with Stackson btw.

“Stiles, are you still emailing with that Steve you met on the internet?” 

Lydia posed. She was inspecting her perfectly manicured cuticle. Stiles never really thought what she might see under those clean, clean nails. 

“Uh, yeah . . . I am.” He said, looking up from his phone. Everybody was staring at him like they’d always used to when he was doing something they silently disapprove. Like that one time he had the great idea to make a Powerpoint Presentation about his econ paper on male circumcision. Everybody said no immediately.

“Dude, not to hurt you or anything, but I think that guy’s catfishing you.” Scott, his best friend, said beside him.

“You don’t know that.” He mumbled. Then the bell rings, and lunch was over. He stayed in the back as his friends continued to walk, phone held firmly on his right hand as he waits for Steve’s reply. 

Being catfished has crossed his mind when he first chatted with Steve on an online gay site Stiles joined a couple of months ago. He was lonely. And clearly, the fishes in Beacon Hills weren’t really his taste so Stiles found another way to somehow ease the increasingly hollowing feeling in his chest. He created his profile under the username SuperAwesome14 and posted a profile picture of him wearing his lacrosse uniform. 

There were a couple of interested parties but most of them were only looking for casual sex. Stiles was all up for sex but he was sure that his dad would castrate him personally if he knew that his underage son was having casual-underage sex with possible 40 year old white men that he met on the internet.

So, sex was kind of out since he’s still only barely legal at the age of 17. There’s this feature where the site recommends other member’s that fairly matches with other member’s profile, and as Stiles was browsing his, username CaptainRum very much caught his attention. Stiles checked his profile. He was scanning and he chuckled when there was a section where CaptainRum wrote _I’ve watched all Marvel movies for the nth time. Someone help me?_ to which Stiles messaged CaptainRum _I’m afraid there’s no helping you. >:) _

It was a long shot, Stiles thought. CaptainRum was handsome, or so by CaptainRum’s profile picture. He later introduced himself as Steve when he replied to Stiles. Stiles was a bit shocked at first that someone who looks like him would reply to someone who looked like Stiles.

From then on, they’d been chatting back and forth when they had the time. Steve was living in London and had 7 hours of time difference so they receive and read each other’s emails late. But it didn’t matter. They were talking and Stiles didn’t feel somewhat lonely like before. 

They’ve exchanged emails at some point and they’ve began emailing back and forth when they’re not chatting in the site. It’s been 2 months of chatting and emailing when his friends started to doubt Steve.

“He doesn’t have a Facebook!” Erica said one day when they were having a study group at Derek’s loft. “I mean, who doesn’t have a Facebook?”

“Steve doesn’t.” He muttered. “He’s a private guy. Look at Derek, he doesn’t have a Facebook.”

“Uh, he does.” Erica said.

“I do.” Derek said, sourly.

“You still haven’t Skype,” Isaac said, looking up from his book. “And you don’t have his number.”

“I have his email!”

“That can be faked.” Lydia said.

“Guys.” Stiles sighed. He loved his friends really, but sometimes they get on his nerves. “I’m happy just chatting with Steve, okay. It somehow makes me feel that I’m not alone—“

“Stiles—“

“You guys are all paired with someone,” he continued, “just let me be for the mean time.”

His friends let him be eventually. But there were still times where they say something annoying, to Stiles. He knew it was because they were all worried for him, he knew that it was all for his sake. But he just wanted this experience all to himself. He doesn’t want anyone getting in to his relationship, whatever it was, with Steve. 

 

Later that night, Stiles was sitting on his computer nibbling on his lower lip and his nails. He was anxious. He was nervous, nervous because he was about to ask Steve to Skype with him. He knows he wasn’t supposed to be this nervous but he figured it’s been more than two months since they’ve found each other wandering around the internet that it’s time for them to see each other.

He clicked the send button and Stiles waited for a reply. 

Stiles liked Steve. He shares the same interest when it comes to superhero movies. Stiles preferred Batman but he very much like Marvel movies. They had arguments, too. Like that time where Stiles asked Steve whether he had watched The Lord of the Rings trilogy. And when Steve said no, saying it was “lengthy and boring,” Stiles didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day. 

They complimented each other. As per Stiles’ standards. 

Stiles received a reply while he was playing video games alone. He paused and practically jumped over to where his phone was and thumbed on his phone. It’s been two months. He clicked the email and it just simply read, _Okay._

_Okay means good, right? I get to finally see him!_

Stiles emailed back his Skype username and so did Steve. He logged in to his Skype account minutes later and added Steve. When he saw that Steve confirmed his request and went online he chatted him.

Stiles: Hi!  
Steve: Hi!  
Stiles: I’ll finally get to see you  
Stiles: My friends thinks you’re catfishing me.  
Steve: Oh.  
Stiles: Can I call now?

There was a pause. And Stiles was feeling nervous. What if Steve didn’t want to see him after all? A minute had passed before Steve replied.

Steve: Promise not to get mad?  
Why would I get mad?  
Stiles: Why would I get mad???

Then Steve was calling him and Stiles was all nervous and confused. His mind asking questions a mile a minute. What if his friends were right and that Steve was only catfishing him. And that Steve was actually a 40 year old British guy who wants to have relationships with young and very available guys such as himself?

He clicked answer.

His screen went black and he thought for one second that his computer crashed. Steve chatted again.

Steve: I really like you, Stiles.  
Steve: So, please don’t get mad . . . or even if you do get mad, I hope you can forgive me.

Stiles read nervously. This was it. A face of a 40 year old British guy with bald head and messy beard would appear on his screen. Stiles was prepared for it. Whoever Steve was. He was prepared for his heart to be catfished. Only it wasn’t a 40 year old British guy with bald head and messy beard that appeared on his screen. Stiles wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t expecting Jackson Whittemore to be at the end of his Skype call.

“What the fuck!” he hissed.

“Stiles, listen.” Jackson said from the other end. It was really Jackson.

A rush of anger flowed through him. This was actually worse than being catfished. “You know? I wish I was catfished,” he said. “Have a good laugh, douchebag.” Then he ended the call. His chest felt tight. Reaching for his phone, he thumbed Steve’s—no, Jackson’s email and deleted it. He went to his computer again and logged in to the gay site he joined in and deleted his account. 

Stiles was on the verge on having a panic attack. He liked Steve. He liked talking to him. Stiles had finally found someone who he shares interests with, who liked talking to him, and who liked him, but it turned out to be the last person he’d rather have a relationship with. 

He flopped down on his bed and screamed on his pillows. He felt like having a fit. His friends would probably laugh at him if they knew. 

Stiles shifted so he was facing his ceiling with tears on his eyes. He genuinely liked Steve. And here he thought he’s finally going to have someone. He felt tire so he decided to sleep.

He had never felt more alone. 

 

At school Stiles tried his best to avoid majority of his friends. He went to class with them but he distanced himself just the right amount so his friends won’t get suspicious. He was having one of those just-broken-up-with-someone feeling although he didn’t know if this one counted. He didn’t even know if this was the just-broken-up-with-someone feeling because he hasn’t been in a relationship ever.

“Hey,” Danny asked as he took a seat next to him at History.

“Hey.”

“So,” Danny started. He already knew where this was coming. Danny was Jackson’s best friend after all. “Jackson called me last night.”

“Really?” he turned to Danny and raised an eyebrow. “And I care because?”

Danny sort of leaned back a little. Probably taken aback with his attitude. “He was panicking a little . . . or a lot. He said that he messed up a lot.”

He was silent. He really didn’t know what to do at this point. Stiles doesn’t really want to hear any of this right now but it looked like he had no choice. “Yeah, his practical joke kind did went so far this time.”

“Practical joke?” Danny quirked an eyebrow, and on a whisper he said, “Jackson was practically crying last night. He doesn’t cry that often I could tell you that. So whatever it is that happened between you two you better fix it.” Danny paused when their teacher came in, “and I know that Jackson has been a dick to you all of the time but it doesn’t mean you can’t give him a chance . . . or whatever you two have going on. I didn’t even know you guys were talking.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Danny shrugged, “I asked but he didn’t want to tell me . . . are you okay?”

Stiles blinked the tears that were threatening to fall. He was feeling all sorts of mixed feelings like if he should talk to Jackson or not, or if he should forgive him or not, or if he still liked him now that he knows Steve was Jackson. “Yeah,” he said, “I’m good.”

 

Classes went on with Danny looking at him worryingly. It seemed like he didn’t tell the others because they were still the same during lunch. 

“So, Derek’s this Friday night?” Erica asked across from him.

“Can’t,” Lydia said over his right, “having a date with this guy Aiden.”

“I’m dating his twin!” Danny said as he sat next to Stiles, “his name’s Ethan.”

“Ugh, you guys are no fun,” Erica pouted, “Isaac?”

“Derek.” Isaac smiled shyly.

“I don’t want to even ask McCall,” Erica said and everyone laughed. 

“Hey!” Scott and Allison said in unison. They giggled and gave each other googly eyes.

They stopped after that. They went on eating their lunches when Erica spoke again, “Stiles, wanna hang out with me and Boyd then?”

Stiles looked at Erica, then at the rest of the group. He was already kind of feeling sick. “I’ll have to pass,” he said. “I don’t want to be the third wheel.”

 

When lacrosse practice ended and Stiles had showered, he went toward the parking lot where his jeep was parked. Scott said he’d catch a ride with Allison and everybody had everyone to ride with which left Stiles all by himself. 

As he was walking he pondered on the things that were eating him all day. Like how the hollowing feeling on his chest was back and that it felt even bigger. There was this weight on his stomach that made him feel sick. He had checked his phone countless times today and found a couple of emails from Steve—Jackson, but he ignored it all. The emails stopped coming sometime this morning.

He was a few meters away from his jeep when he saw a man leaning on it. Stiles abruptly stopped walking to size the guy up. If this was a mugger then it was the stupidest mugger he has ever come across to. The guy was wearing a black leather jacket with a hood covering his head. His hands were inside his jacket pocket and when he noticed Stiles he lifted his head and took off his hood.

“Stiles,” it was Jackson. It was Jackson Whittemore standing not a few meters away from him.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles said as he walked toward his jeep. He didn’t know what to feel. Although he was nervous to see Jackson here.

“I want to talk to you,” Jackson said.

“We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself early,” Jackson said but Stiles was not listening.

Stiles opened the driver’s seat but Jackson slammed it closed. For a second he thought that Jackson would hurt him but when Stiles looked up he recognized hurt on Jackson’s eyes.

` “I thought if I told you that I’m me then you’d stop chatting or emailing me.” Jackson continued, “I really liked talking to you. It’s stupid, I know, because I’ve been a dick to you most of the time—“

Stiles raised his eyebrow.

“—all the time,” Jackson smirked, “and I’m sorry. I’ve gotten to know you this past few months and I’m regretting all those times where we could’ve been friends . . . or you know.”

Stiles was out of words. It felt genuine, Jacksons’ words that he would feel like a dick if Stiles didn’t forgive him. He decided he’d put everything behind. It’s not like Jackson had cheated on him or something. He took a deep breath and sighed. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

“I’m not finished,” Stiles sighed, “I hate you, but not really, and I forgive you for pulling that stunt or something.”

“Thank you,” Jackson breathed. They were standing face to face now. Not really knowing where to put his hands, Stiles patted Jackson’s head. Jackson just smiled and let himself be patted. If this was the old Jackson, Stiles would probably be acquainted with the hood of his jeep.

“Please tell me you didn’t fly here just to apologize,” he said as he loaded his bag in his jeep.

“I do crazy things for love,” Jackson said to which Stiles whirled to look at him with quirked eyebrows to which Jackson’s brows shot upwards like he was surprised he said that. “Or _like_. It doesn’t have to be love.”

“You didn’t have to fly here, you know,” he said, biting his lower lip, “You could’ve just called or something.”

“I’d like to see you, too.”

Stiles looked at him. There’s this palpable tension between him and Jackson and he doesn’t know how to disperse it. “You need a ride or something?” he said. Jackson’s porche was nowhere to be found. 

“Please,” Jackson said. The old Jackson wouldn’t have said the word ‘Please.’

Stiles drove and it was awkward. They were silent but it was verging on uncomfortable. “How’s school? You attend school, right?”

“It’s okay,” Jackson said.

“Still Mr. Popular?”

“I don’t really care much about that anymore.”

“How long are you going to be here?” he said.

“Uh,” Jackson looked at his watched, “I have to be at the airport at 8.”

“8 tomorrow, okay. We could work something out.”

“8 today . . . in the evening.”

Stiles hit the break and they halt. It’s already 5:30 in the afternoon. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah,” Jackson said, “still have classes, you know.”

“Right,” he nodded, “fucking Jackson Whittemore everybody. You’re unbelievable.” He drove again, turning around he looked at Jacksons and said, “We’re having dinner.”

He could see Jackson smile. “Fine.”

 

They went on Beacon Hills’ only Diner. After he called his dad, they sat at the booth at the end. They—Stiles—ordered a mountain of curly fries, burgers and some milkshakes. “You’re paying.” He had said and Jackson just rolled his eyes.

They started talking about London, where Jackson lived, his parents and his school. The tension between them was slowly melting as the time passes by. They talked about lacrosse, they talked about their friends, and they talked about Stiles.

Slowly, Stiles found himself getting comfortable. The idea of having dinner with Jackson Whittemore was ridiculous. But now, as he sat across the said man, Stiles only wished he had more time.

After dinner, Stiles drove Jackson back to the airport. Jackson didn’t bring any clothes to which Stiles scoffed at. The only thing Jackson had brought was his ticket and money. “You’re ridiculous.” He said as he walked Jackson towards the airport.

“You like me,” Jackson said and Stiles could see Jackson’s shoulder tense like he wasn’t supposed to say that.

“Unfortunately,” he said, bumping shoulders with Jackson. He saw the tension go away as they walk inside.

They’ve exchanged numbers earlier. They’ve also exchanged their emails, Skype accounts and Facebook. This time it’s going to be for real.

“I’ll call you when I get there.”

“You better.” He said.

And, as if a promise, Jackson Whittemore kissed Stiles Stilinski. All Stiles could do was stand in shock, eyes wide and brows raised. When he felt Jackson had stopped kissing him, Stiles grabbed Jackson’s jaws and kissed him back. He couldn’t believe his first kiss was on an airport! This was so cliché.

“It was nice meeting you, SuperAwesome14,” Jackson breathed. They were so close to each other.

“Same here, CaptainRum.” He smirked. Then Jackson leaned in for one more kiss and Stiles let him. This time it was more gentle and sweeter.

“I miss you already,” Jackson said.

“Alright,” he said, pulling away from the hug, “this is getting cliché, romantic-comedy-esque.”

Jackson laughed and Stiles laughed back. They’re going to do this right this time.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading.  
> kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
> i really, really, really hope for more Stackson fics. i love them.
> 
> if you have any requests just hit me up. :)


End file.
